Auction
by Korona Karyuudo
Summary: Darkness. He was floating in it, in that abyss, that black hole. That was all Gary could see; that was all he could feel before he woke up. Although, he might not have wanted to wake up after finding out about the insanity he'd be faced with once he did.
1. Auction

Okay, so I know I promised to update LUTD and AWFTM a while ago, and no amount of excuses will make up for it. If you haven't checked out my profile in a while, there's some AWFTM news on it that you all might be interested to hear. But, in the case that you indeed care about my existence, my pathetic attempt of an excuse for not updating can be found on my profile as well. But enough about me, let's talk about this oneshot.

I first thought of the idea with my friend Marielle after we were criticizing Twilight somewhere around 2 years ago. We both seriously hate those books as the author totally badgers the English language and it's full of plot holes (Which, by the way, criticism can be found by googling Twilight Dan as well as Mark Reads Twilight). This was originally supposed to star Edward, but then I thought 'But, wouldn't this make more sense if it were Gary instead?' Also, why would I want to have a fic in the Twilight fandom... ::shudders:: So, here we are! I hope you enjoy, leave a review, and maybe add to favorites? =)

-Torrie

* * *

Title: Auction

Author: Korona Karyuudo

Summary: Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. Where are you? Somewhere strange. Somewhere… where the killing intent is high. Will you survive? Read, and find out.

Dedication: To Marielle, one heck of a singer, and one amazing friend. =)

Dislaimer: Pokemon, to be frank, isn't owned by me. And, to my utter discouragement, neither is Gary. But, as life goes on, so do I. I keep on trucking down the road; waiting, yes waiting, on my dreams that will never be.

* * *

Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. The memory is a bit foggy, pushed back and put away somewhere in the millions of manila files littering your mind. But, you try your best to recall something.

Wait… It's starting to come to you now.. Your mind is a thunderstorm of thoughts and images. Right, well, let's start with what you _do_ remember:

The day was beautiful. The sun shone brightly overhead with not a cloud in sight to obscure the rays' gently spreading warmth over your body. There you were, taking a nice stroll through Amity Square with your loyal Umbreon after a long, harsh day at work. It seemed like too long since you'd last been out of the lab, taking a break from the constant cramming of scientific formulas and calculations.

Back to the point; you had stopped walking, opting instead to sit down on a conveniently placed bench as you watched your Umbreon play around in the vast, open field in front of you. Pushing out a large sigh of contentment, you leaned into the hard wood as if it were a fluffy cloud made of cotton. Delving a bit into your subconscious, you let your head tilt as far back as it could and peacefully closed your eyes as you pictured serenity behind closed lids.

Lost in your swirling thoughts, you failed to notice your Umbreon start to growl fiercely, something your little black creature of the night _rarely_ did. You _should_ have been paying attention…

But, that's all in the past. Now, let's continue.

Your Umbreon was on guard, and you yourself only snapped to attention when the lovable creature pulled on your pant leg and thus effectively gnawed away at the (expensive!) material. You blinked your eyes open curiously as your 5 senses reawakened, your joyful grin oddly enough turning into an inquisitive frown as if by works of magic.

"What's wrong Umbreon," you start while gazing softly at your companion, "Is there something dangerous behind me?" you finished with a scoff, hiding fear behind a mask of amusement.

You resolve to check out what it was that had Umbreon immensely frustrated, so, slowly you turned your head. A shadow obscured your view of the sun (more like eclipsed it) as fright ran through your veins.

"What in the name of Ho-oh?" you manage to mumble out before-

WHAM!

-That's where everything gets jumbled. By the way, did you know that you are currently conversing within your own subconscious?

Who _are_ you? It's not obvious by now?

You struggle to bring forth your lost thoughts. Your name; it's _important_. You have to remember! Cymbals crash against each other as you pull forth different memories: of your Pokémon, your family, your friends, your adventures….

Ah ha! At last, a single few words circulate through your subconscious. Your name?

_Gary Oak_.

You _would _say more, maybe give in to the temptation of basking in all your glory, but unfortunately it seems that _who_ever or _what_ever knocked you out, drugged you as well. You can faintly sense a bit of lingering euphoria. Perhaps _that_ was why you were so calm only seconds ago.

But, now that you know who you are, you are pleased to conclude that you are _not at all_ content with the situation at hand; drifting through the different rifts and passages of your mind and discovering things about yourself that you would never have guessed. In all honesty, what _you_ want to know is:

Where are you?

* * *

Darkness. He was floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That was all that Gary could see; that was all he could _feel_ before he came to. Although, he might not have wanted to 'come to' after finding out about the insanity he would be faced with once he did.

* * *

Flash flash, flickering on and off the millions of light bulbs together, in unison. They can't decide whether to stay fully lit or to black out slightly, maybe even fully. Well, we suppose it isn't the bulbs themselves, but the one in charge of light design whose mind wanders so.

It seems they decide on staying fully lit after all.

And, the light engulfs the room in complete hysteria. As soon as the prize becomes visible, cheers, chants, screams, and shouts ricochet off the walls, coming from the vast crowd, the sea of people. Tonight's viewing would be spectacular. Fans came from all the corners of the world just for this one event.

And it would be oh so worth it.

But, to one single person, the same could not be said. He isn't completely awake yet, but anything would have been better than being in his shoes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the soft music begins to spew forth from the surrounding speaker system. It spreads in volume around the entire room like a fine mist. As it spreads, it rises in pitch, finally able to be heard just a bit above the noise of the crowd.

A pause: Then a heavy rhythmic beat begins.

Thump, thump, thump.

Louder the stereo spills out music. Millions of notes dance through the air, the tune dark, irregular...mad. And the people, the sea of people shout their mouths off to the mysterious melody, louder than they were before. Their bodies move and they dance wildly to the beat in the cramped space.

Head back, hands high, waist swaying from side to side while feet try to shuffle back and forth. Sometimes a knee bent, sometimes hair flipped, and sometimes, people get lost in it all. The music swallows you whole.

This is madness. A wonderful madness.

It gives you a sense of feeling high, on top of the world, euphoria slithering through the gaps of your fingers. And the music spins its way through people, a game of cat's cradle. It is brilliant, dangerously brilliant how the bodies swarm like worker bees trying to pollinate flowers.

Madness.

"Hello fans from across the globe! It's time to start the show!" the announcer exclaims, her sensual voice amplified by the microphone in her hands.

The music dies down a bit, still faintly detectable by ear, as on the stage the young lady appears to the crowd. After a nice round of applause; it all begins.

Meanwhile, _he_ is somewhere dark.

Faintly he stirs; the drug begins to finally wear off. Still, he hasn't gained enough leverage in the real world in order to snap out of the daze. He struggles with his own memories while in his subconscious, trying to piece back together a puzzle of immense confusion.

Darkness.

He's floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That is all that Gary _sees_; that is all that Gary _feels. _

And, his head lolls from side to side every now and then. He fights to wake up, to break free of his 'drunken stupor,' but to no avail.

The young woman on stage begins to speak again; more lightning bolts of enthusiasm slice through the sky as she says, "And now, it's time to unveil one of the most awaited entries in tonight's show!"

Her voice is drowned out by the feedback from the crowd.

Gary's 5 senses start to come back as a faint rumbling noise shakes through his brain. He knows he's being taken somewhere. What he doesn't know, is that he's strapped to a flat wooden board, a flat wooden board that is being wheeled away to Celebi knows where.

With no hope of escape.

The wheels cause the rumbling as they create friction with the bumpy floor. The vibrations travel up and down every limb of his body.

Then it stops, it just stops.

And, he's blinded by light.

On all sides of his body, he feels the heat from the hundreds of light bulbs push into his skin, seep into his bones. Sweat pours down the side of his face, dripping, dripping, dripping: splash. The only thing that comes to mind is the need for sunscreen, as all this UV light can't be good for the body.

"Here we are, all," the lady with her microphone says, "Time to unveil the merchandise! Ready? 1, 2, 3!"

With a quick, mind throbbing spin, Gary is forced into waking up. All he can see is the light. He can't make out any faces, but knows that there is someone there.. a whole _lot_ of someones. His brain now fully awake, eyes still adjusting to the harsh conditions, Gary tries to break free of the wooden board he notices that he is strapped to.

He tries, but fails. Instead, he hurts himself in the process: splinters dig into the side of his arm.

"We'll start the bidding at 1000 Poké. Let the game begin!" the announcer yells into the microphone while executing a balanced spin: the audience goes wild.

"I'll bid 1000!" an old lady yells while holding up her cue card.

What is going on?

A young male shouts out, "I'll triple that: 3000!"

And on the prices go; higher, higher, still higher while Gary is trying to figure out what is happening.

"25000 Poké over here!" a young woman shouts out, quickly overcome by an elder male who screams, "50000 Poké."

Tik tok tik tok, the clock keeps ticking every second that passes by. Gary, still puzzled, takes in the information he has. One, he was knocked out by some mystery being. Two, he was drugged and taken to this Mew forsaken' place. Three, he's strapped tightly to a wooden board that he can't break free from, and four: people seem to be bidding for something.

Well, whatever it is, he thinks, it must be well worth the price by the fact that the numbers are only getting higher. Oh, that, and his arm hurts.

"130000 Poké and my life's savings are gone." An old man yells out while looking to his wife.

Then silence.

The pressure rings through the room like an old brass gong signaling for dinner time. Whispers brake out in the crowd with talks of no more money left, of saving for college tuition, of having nothing to feed the kids with and even having to foreclose their homes.

Gary, there, but not there, just chuckles. The people seem so fickle in his mind. Something is wrong, something is very wrong with this situation.. this picture.

"Come now," the young lady starts in a patronizing voice, "surely the merchandise is to your liking. If it wasn't, then it wouldn't be here, up on this stage."

Gary tunes her out while she goes into a small tirade on the value of whatever it was that the people were bidding their Poké on. Yet, he too snapped to attention when she came to the last line:

"And it is known fact," she takes a mysterious pause for affect, "that Gary Oak.. _doesn't_ come cheap."

Gary Oak?

_What_ is going on here, why was my name mentioned, Gary thinks to himself.

What are these people _really_ bidding on?

Straining his ears to listen, he catches the next bid, "I'll bid 300000 Poké for him, but no higher!" a young female says with hearts in her eyes.

Hearts in her eyes?

_Him?_

So, they aren't bidding on an object…

Gary takes a big gulp before coming to the next conclusion:

They are bidding on him.

And with that, fear rushes through his blood, adrenaline pumping like mad. Faster, stronger, he needed to get out of here!

Gary struggles once more to break the bonds that hold him to the board, going a bit spastic when doing so. Again, he fails, instead choosing to just lay limp. The bidding goes on while Gary tries to think of a way out of this situation.

His Pokémon!

Gary looks down to his belt where his Pokéballs should have been. Yes, should have, as in.. not there now. He panics mentally, but for his sake, for the sake of his Pokémon, he calms down. There has to be another way out!

But, he backtracks in his thoughts: why is he even here in the first place? Why did that shadow bring him here? What did he do to deserve the misfortune of being sold off to the highest bidder?

"500000 Poké right here!" an old woman screams above the rest of the voices. That was the highest that anyone had ever gone for the merchandise being sold. It was a bid for the record books.

It looked like no one would want to go higher, and that didn't bode too well with Gary. Less bidding equals less time for planning an escape.

Faintly his ears pick up the sound of a familiar cheer. Something along the lines of 'Gary, Gary, he's our man. If we can't own him, no one can!" The cheer, coupled with the unmistaken sound of sobbing, told Gary that even his own cheerleaders couldn't buy him back.

The situation was becoming increasingly worse.

"Going once," the lady speaks into her microphone, "Going twice?" she says with a hint of questioning, "Going three times!" she exclaims with a jovial voice.

"Sold for 500000 Poké!" she announces, executing another spin, "Please make your way to the stage to present the cash or check. Would the seller also make their way to the stage!"

I'm doomed, Gary thought. This is bad, very _very_ bad.

Wait a minute.. did she say.. the seller?

Snapping his head up, quick enough to cause whiplash, Gary squints in order to see just who it was that was selling him away (to an old, plump lady no better). He blurrily makes out the silhouette of a medium body size with something, a hat maybe, sitting on the person's head, and some kind of weird form sticking out of his shoulder.

When the person's face came into focus, all Gary could do was dilate his eyes in surprise before turning them into a cold glare.

"You, I can't believe it was you." He musters up the strength to growl at the person.

Yes, it was a Mr. Ash Ketchum, Gary's eternal trainer rival, who actually went ahead and sold him at an auction.

Ash ignored Gary, instead walking over to accept his 500000 Poké, in _cash_. The throng of people below claps and whistles loudly while the exchange is made.

Money in hand, Ash walks over to Gary to say his goodbyes.

"You've annoyed me for the last time Oak," Ash starts, a small smirk on his face growing bigger with every word, "First, all those years ago, times when you beat me in battles, beat me to new challenges. Your car, your money, your cheerleaders! Then there was that time just a short while ago where you were flirting with poor Dawn. You just don't know when to stop, do you Gary? And so, I've had enough with your pompous attitude," here Ash's smirk turns into a sort of grimace, "I'm not as dense as you think I am."

With that, Ash turns on his heel, leaving the stage, and Gary to fend for himself with his new 'owner'.

Hysterically, Gary calls out to Ash, "Ashy-boy, hey wait a minute! Don't just leave. We're not done here pal so turn around and come back!" but, he gets no response from Ash, instead Pikachu turns around on his partner's shoulder to give him the tongue-eye combination.

All hope lost, Gary turns to the old lady who bought him. She isn't the prettiest sight; he grimaces, taking in her pudgy appearance. She seemed like the type who spent all day baking and eating, baking and eating, with occasional sleeping to boot.

"Gary!" she squeals happily, taking him into a bone crushing hug after untying him from the board, "I got your Pokémon back. Come now Gary, we're going home to Grandpa and Glameow."

The lady pulls Gary along in a double vice grip, Gary's Pokéballs clenched in one hand. Thinking fast, he makes up a quick fib to see if she would buy it, get him out of this situation, and on his way to exacting revenge.

"Umm, Grandma..," he starts, the sounds rolling off his tongue in disgust, "I really need to use the bathroom."

She stops, turns around, and replies, "Okay! It's this way!" before she drags him down another hallway in the backstage area. Thinking fast, he pulls the Pokéballs right out of her grasp as she pushes Gary into the bathroom.

Gary, locking the door swiftly from the inside, leaves Grandma confused, but then she gets consumed by anger and starts to pound on the door.

He only has a short amount of time to get out of here, but he knows that he'll succeed. Selecting one particular Pokéball the smirk on Gary's face grew. With a subtle hair flip of his own, brown locks falling back into place, and a toss of the ball into the air, he calls out his Scizor.

"Get us out of here," he commands, black eyes glittering in triumph.

"Scizor" his friend replies, before blasting a hole in the roof of the place with a strong Hyper Beam. Getting onto Scizor's back, together they take flight.

Time to get his revenge.

After all, you don't mess with Gary Oak.

;)

* * *

Friends of all ages! Thank's for reading till the end. There WILL be an alternate ending posted at a later date. Right now I'm too tired to comprehend anymore writing xDD

Once again, hope you R&R, maybe add to favorites, alert..anything really! Also, as always I look to you guys for giving me tips on how to improve my writing, so don't hesitate to let me know!

I hope you enjoyed this oneshot and will stick around for the alternate ending once I upload it. Also, don't forget to check out a collaboration that ffgtfgtr and I are working on called: The NPC Chronicles. It's on my profile if you want the link.

If you want anything in this to be explained, let me know! Till Next Time!

-Torrie


	2. Auction Times Two

Oh hey there guys, girls, Gary fans, and random people who stumbled upon my story. Like I promised, here's the alternate ending to Auction. The story itself starts to change right after Gary gets sold, so it'll be a fun change of taste.

I hope you like it, maybe favorite the story.. you know, the usual. And, REVIEW. Seriously, reading your reviews makes my day and I appreciate every single one. Enjoy!

-Torrie

* * *

Title: Auction

Author: Korona Karyuudo

Summary: Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. Where are you? Somewhere strange. Somewhere… where the killing intent is high. Will you survive? Read, and find out.

Dedication: To Marielle, one heck of a singer, and one amazing friend. =)

Dislaimer: Pokemon, to be frank, isn't owned by me. And, to my utter discouragement, neither is Gary. But, as life goes on, so do I. I keep on trucking down the road; waiting, yes waiting, on my dreams that will never be.

What? You thought I'd write a new disclaimer? Please, this one is just as great. =)

* * *

Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. The memory is a bit foggy, pushed back and put away somewhere in the millions of manila files littering your mind. But, you try your best to recall something.

Wait… It's starting to come to you now.. Your mind is a thunderstorm of thoughts and images. Right, well, let's start with what you _do_ remember:

The day was beautiful. The sun shone brightly overhead with not a cloud in sight to obscure the rays' gently spreading warmth over your body. There you were, taking a nice stroll through Amity Square with your loyal Umbreon after a long, harsh day at work. It seemed like too long since you'd last been out of the lab, taking a break from the constant cramming of scientific formulas and calculations.

Back to the point; you had stopped walking, opting instead to sit down on a conveniently placed bench as you watched your Umbreon play around in the vast, open field in front of you. Pushing out a large sigh of contentment, you leaned into the hard wood as if it were a fluffy cloud made of cotton. Delving a bit into your subconscious, you let your head tilt as far back as it could and peacefully closed your eyes as you pictured serenity behind closed lids.

Lost in your swirling thoughts, you failed to notice your Umbreon start to growl fiercely, something your little black creature of the night _rarely_ did. You _should_ have been paying attention…

But, that's all in the past. Now, let's continue.

Your Umbreon was on guard, and you yourself only snapped to attention when the lovable creature pulled on your pant leg and thus effectively gnawed away at the (expensive!) material. You blinked your eyes open curiously as your 5 senses reawakened, your joyful grin oddly enough turning into an inquisitive frown as if by works of magic.

"What's wrong Umbreon," you start while gazing softly at your companion, "Is there something dangerous behind me?" you finished with a scoff, hiding fear behind a mask of amusement.

You resolve to check out what it was that had Umbreon immensely frustrated, so, slowly you turned your head. A shadow obscured your view of the sun (more like eclipsed it) as fright ran through your veins.

"What in the name of Ho-oh?" you manage to mumble out before-

WHAM!

-That's where everything gets jumbled. By the way, did you know that you are currently conversing within your own subconscious?

Who _are_ you? It's not obvious by now?

You struggle to bring forth your lost thoughts. Your name; it's _important_. You have to remember! Cymbals crash against each other as you pull forth different memories: of your Pokémon, your family, your friends, your adventures….

Ah ha! At last, a single few words circulate through your subconscious. Your name?

_Gary Oak_.

You _would _say more, maybe give in to the temptation of basking in all your glory, but unfortunately it seems that _who_ever or _what_ever knocked you out, drugged you as well. You can faintly sense a bit of lingering euphoria. Perhaps _that_ was why you were so calm only seconds ago.

But, now that you know who you are, you are pleased to conclude that you are _not at all_ content with the situation at hand; drifting through the different rifts and passages of your mind and discovering things about yourself that you would never have guessed. In all honesty, what _you_ want to know is:

Where are you?

* * *

Darkness. He was floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That was all that Gary could see; that was all he could _feel_ before he came to. Although, he might not have wanted to 'come to' after finding out about the insanity he would be faced with once he did.

* * *

Flash flash, flickering on and off the millions of light bulbs together, in unison. They can't decide whether to stay fully lit or to black out slightly, maybe even fully. Well, we suppose it isn't the bulbs themselves, but the one in charge of light design whose mind wanders so.

It seems they decide on staying fully lit after all.

And, the light engulfs the room in complete hysteria. As soon as the prize becomes visible, cheers, chants, screams, and shouts ricochet off the walls, coming from the vast crowd, the sea of people. Tonight's viewing would be spectacular. Fans came from all the corners of the world just for this one event.

And it would be oh so worth it.

But, to one single person, the same could not be said. He isn't completely awake yet, but anything would have been better than being in his shoes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the soft music begins to spew forth from the surrounding speaker system. It spreads in volume around the entire room like a fine mist. As it spreads, it rises in pitch, finally able to be heard just a bit above the noise of the crowd.

A pause: Then a heavy rhythmic beat begins.

Thump, thump, thump.

Louder the stereo spills out music. Millions of notes dance through the air, the tune dark, irregular...mad. And the people, the sea of people shout their mouths off to the mysterious melody, louder than they were before. Their bodies move and they dance wildly to the beat in the cramped space.

Head back, hands high, waist swaying from side to side while feet try to shuffle back and forth. Sometimes a knee bent, sometimes hair flipped, and sometimes, people get lost in it all. The music swallows you whole.

This is madness. A wonderful madness.

It gives you a sense of feeling high, on top of the world, euphoria slithering through the gaps of your fingers. And the music spins its way through people, a game of cat's cradle. It is brilliant, dangerously brilliant how the bodies swarm like worker bees trying to pollinate flowers.

Madness.

"Hello fans from across the globe! It's time to start the show!" the announcer exclaims, her sensual voice amplified by the microphone in her hands.

The music dies down a bit, still faintly detectable by ear, as on the stage the young lady appears to the crowd. After a nice round of applause; it all begins.

Meanwhile, _he_ is somewhere dark.

Faintly he stirs; the drug begins to finally wear off. Still, he hasn't gained enough leverage in the real world in order to snap out of the daze. He struggles with his own memories while in his subconscious, trying to piece back together a puzzle of immense confusion.

Darkness.

He's floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That is all that Gary _sees_; that is all that Gary _feels. _

And, his head lolls from side to side every now and then. He fights to wake up, to break free of his 'drunken stupor,' but to no avail.

The young woman on stage begins to speak again; more lightning bolts of enthusiasm slice through the sky as she says, "And now, it's time to unveil one of the most awaited entries in tonight's show!"

Her voice is drowned out by the feedback from the crowd.

Gary's 5 senses start to come back as a faint rumbling noise shakes through his brain. He knows he's being taken somewhere. What he doesn't know, is that he's strapped to a flat wooden board, a flat wooden board that is being wheeled away to Celebi knows where.

With no hope of escape.

The wheels cause the rumbling as they create friction with the bumpy floor. The vibrations travel up and down every limb of his body.

Then it stops, it just stops.

And, he's blinded by light.

On all sides of his body, he feels the heat from the hundreds of light bulbs push into his skin, seep into his bones. Sweat pours down the side of his face, dripping, dripping, dripping: splash. The only thing that comes to mind is the need for sunscreen, as all this UV light can't be good for the body.

"Here we are, all," the lady with her microphone says, "Time to unveil the merchandise! Ready? 1, 2, 3!"

With a quick, mind throbbing spin, Gary is forced into waking up. All he can see is the light. He can't make out any faces, but knows that there is someone there.. a whole _lot_ of someones. His brain now fully awake, eyes still adjusting to the harsh conditions, Gary tries to break free of the wooden board he notices that he is strapped to.

He tries, but fails. Instead, he hurts himself in the process: splinters dig into the side of his arm.

"We'll start the bidding at 1000 Poké. Let the game begin!" the announcer yells into the microphone while executing a balanced spin: the audience goes wild.

"I'll bid 1000!" an old lady yells while holding up her cue card.

What is going on?

A young male shouts out, "I'll triple that: 3000!"

And on the prices go; higher, higher, still higher while Gary is trying to figure out what is happening.

"25000 Poké over here!" a young woman shouts out, quickly overcome by an elder male who screams, "50000 Poké."

Tik tok tik tok, the clock keeps ticking every second that passes by. Gary, still puzzled, takes in the information he has. One, he was knocked out by some mystery being. Two, he was drugged and taken to this Mew forsaken' place. Three, he's strapped tightly to a wooden board that he can't break free from, and four: people seem to be bidding for something.

Well, whatever it is, he thinks, it must be well worth the price by the fact that the numbers are only getting higher. Oh, that, and his arm hurts.

"130000 Poké and my life's savings are gone." An old man yells out while looking to his wife.

Then silence.

The pressure rings through the room like an old brass gong signaling for dinner time. Whispers brake out in the crowd with talks of no more money left, of saving for college tuition, of having nothing to feed the kids with and even having to foreclose their homes.

Gary, there, but not there, just chuckles. The people seem so fickle in his mind. Something is wrong, something is very wrong with this situation.. this picture.

"Come now," the young lady starts in a patronizing voice, "surely the merchandise is to your liking. If it wasn't, then it wouldn't be here, up on this stage."

Gary tunes her out while she goes into a small tirade on the value of whatever it was that the people were bidding their Poké on. Yet, he too snapped to attention when she came to the last line:

"And it is known fact," she takes a mysterious pause for affect, "that Gary Oak.. _doesn't_ come cheap."

Gary Oak?

_What_ is going on here, why was my name mentioned, Gary thinks to himself.

What are these people _really_ bidding on?

Straining his ears to listen, he catches the next bid, "I'll bid 300000 Poké for him, but no higher!" a young female says with hearts in her eyes.

Hearts in her eyes?

_Him?_

So, they aren't bidding on an object…

Gary takes a big gulp before coming to the next conclusion:

They are bidding on him.

And with that, fear rushes through his blood, adrenaline pumping like mad. Faster, stronger, he needed to get out of here!

Gary struggles once more to break the bonds that hold him to the board, going a bit spastic when doing so. Again, he fails, instead choosing to just lay limp. The bidding goes on while Gary tries to think of a way out of this situation.

His Pokémon!

Gary looks down to his belt where his Pokéballs should have been. Yes, should have, as in.. not there now. He panics mentally, but for his sake, for the sake of his Pokémon, he calms down. There has to be another way out!

But, he backtracks in his thoughts: why is he even here in the first place? Why did that shadow bring him here? What did he do to deserve the misfortune of being sold off to the highest bidder?

"500000 Poké right here!" an old woman screams above the rest of the voices. That was the highest that anyone had ever gone for the merchandise being sold. It was a bid for the record books.

It looked like no one would want to go higher, and that didn't bode too well with Gary. Less bidding equals less time for planning an escape.

Faintly his ears pick up the sound of a familiar cheer. Something along the lines of 'Gary, Gary, he's our man. If we can't own him, no one can!" The cheer, coupled with the unmistaken sound of sobbing, told Gary that even his own cheerleaders couldn't buy him back.

The situation was becoming increasingly worse.

"Going once," the lady speaks into her microphone, "Going twice?" she says with a hint of questioning, "Going three times!" she exclaims with a jovial voice.

"Sold for 500000 Poké!" she announces, executing another spin, "Please make your way to the stage to present the cash or check. Would the seller also make their way to the stage!"

I'm doomed, Gary thought. This is bad, very _very_ bad.

Wait a minute.. did she say.. the seller?

Snapping his head up, quick enough to cause whiplash, Gary squints in order to see just who it was that was selling him away (to an old, plump lady no better). He blurrily makes out the silhouette of a large body size with something, maybe some kind of coat, sticking out behind the figure.

When the person's face came into focus, all Gary could do was dilate his eyes in surprise, drifting through bouts of sadness.

"You, I can't believe it was you." He musters up the strength to cry out to the person.

Yes, it was a Professor Samuel Oak, Gary's own grandfather, who actually went ahead and sold him at an auction.

Professor Oak ignored Gary, instead walking over to accept his 500000 Poké, in _cash_. The throng of people below claps and whistles loudly while the exchange is made.

Money in hand, the Professor walks over to Gary to say his goodbyes.

"Quite surprised it was me Gary?" the older Oak starts, a small smile visible on his face, "Although you are my grandson, I simply needed the money. Always knew how popular you were, and this was the best way to make quick cash," here Oak's smile turns into a sort of grimace, "The lab needed more funding to keep on running, what with all the new Pokémon trainers keep sending. Well, goodbye Gary, enjoy your new life"

With that, Professor Oak turns on his heel, leaving the stage, and Gary to fend for himself with his new 'owner'.

Hysterically, Gary calls out to his grandfather, "Gramps, hey wait a minute! Don't just leave. You sold me just to get some money?" but, he gets no response from the Professor, instead his new 'owner' turns towards him with a strange glint in her eyes.

All hope lost, Gary looks to the old lady who bought him. She isn't the prettiest sight; he grimaces, taking in her pudgy appearance. She seemed like the type who spent all day baking and eating, baking and eating, with occasional sleeping to boot.

"Gary!" she squeals happily, taking him into a bone crushing hug after untying him from the board, "Come now Gary, we're going home to Grandpa and Glameow."

The lady pulls Gary along in a double vice grip. Thinking fast, he asks about his Pokémon: maybe if the lady has them, he could get out of here.

"Umm, Grandma..," he starts, the sounds rolling off his tongue in disgust, "Where are my Pokémon?"

She stops, turns around, and replies, "Your Pokémon? Silly Gary, I left them with your grandfather so that you couldn't easily escape." And with a smiling snarl, she drags him down another hallway in the backstage area.

Outside of the building, a cab awaits. Gary, struggling to escape, gets thrown into the yellow monster, still held in the lady's grip. Carefully she snaps a collar into place around his neck, leash and all, as the cabbie starts the engine of the car and pulls away.

Meanwhile, terrors run through Gary's mind. He's screwed up this time; big time. And, if he doesn't do something about it, he'll be stuck like this…

Forever.

* * *

Did you expect the change? I'd like to hear your thoughts. I've also been asked to continue this into an actual story. Well, it would be 2 stories since there are 2 endings, but, I'd like it if you expressed whether I should go on or not. Personally, I'd like to leave it alone, but if I get enough feedback, we'll see. ;)

Thanks again for reading!

-Torrie


	3. Auction Cubed

Ok so I promised only 1 alternate ending but I got really really bored and ended up thinking this one up as well. I don't think any of you will be able to tell beforehand on what the change is this time, but the new ending takes place around the same time as the last one, maybe a little bit before that.

Anyway, if you like these oneshots and would like me to maybe continue them in a 3 in one type story, just send me a PM or leave me a review. Then again, it would be quite a hassle, but ehh, who knows what my mind will think of over time.

Thanks for reading!

-Torrie

* * *

Title: Auction

Author: Korona Karyuudo

Summary: Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. Where are you? Somewhere strange. Somewhere… where the killing intent is high. Will you survive? Read, and find out.

Dedication: To Marielle, one heck of a singer, and one amazing friend. =)

Dislaimer: Pokemon, to be frank, isn't owned by me. And, to my utter discouragement, neither is Gary. But, as life goes on, so do I. I keep on trucking down the road; waiting, yes waiting, on my dreams that will never be.

What? You thought I'd write a new disclaimer? Well, of course not people. I didn't write a new one for the other ending, did I?

* * *

Last thing you remember? Being knocked out. By who, how, and why? You have no clue. The memory is a bit foggy, pushed back and put away somewhere in the millions of manila files littering your mind. But, you try your best to recall something.

Wait… It's starting to come to you now.. Your mind is a thunderstorm of thoughts and images. Right, well, let's start with what you _do_ remember:

The day was beautiful. The sun shone brightly overhead with not a cloud in sight to obscure the rays' gently spreading warmth over your body. There you were, taking a nice stroll through Amity Square with your loyal Umbreon after a long, harsh day at work. It seemed like too long since you'd last been out of the lab, taking a break from the constant cramming of scientific formulas and calculations.

Back to the point; you had stopped walking, opting instead to sit down on a conveniently placed bench as you watched your Umbreon play around in the vast, open field in front of you. Pushing out a large sigh of contentment, you leaned into the hard wood as if it were a fluffy cloud made of cotton. Delving a bit into your subconscious, you let your head tilt as far back as it could and peacefully closed your eyes as you pictured serenity behind closed lids.

Lost in your swirling thoughts, you failed to notice your Umbreon start to growl fiercely, something your little black creature of the night _rarely_ did. You _should_ have been paying attention…

But, that's all in the past. Now, let's continue.

Your Umbreon was on guard, and you yourself only snapped to attention when the lovable creature pulled on your pant leg and thus effectively gnawed away at the (expensive!) material. You blinked your eyes open curiously as your 5 senses reawakened, your joyful grin oddly enough turning into an inquisitive frown as if by works of magic.

"What's wrong Umbreon," you start while gazing softly at your companion, "Is there something dangerous behind me?" you finished with a scoff, hiding fear behind a mask of amusement.

You resolve to check out what it was that had Umbreon immensely frustrated, so, slowly you turned your head. A shadow obscured your view of the sun (more like eclipsed it) as fright ran through your veins.

"What in the name of Ho-oh?" you manage to mumble out before-

WHAM!

-That's where everything gets jumbled. By the way, did you know that you are currently conversing within your own subconscious?

Who _are_ you? It's not obvious by now?

You struggle to bring forth your lost thoughts. Your name; it's _important_. You have to remember! Cymbals crash against each other as you pull forth different memories: of your Pokémon, your family, your friends, your adventures….

Ah ha! At last, a single few words circulate through your subconscious. Your name?

_Gary Oak_.

You _would _say more, maybe give in to the temptation of basking in all your glory, but unfortunately it seems that _who_ever or _what_ever knocked you out, drugged you as well. You can faintly sense a bit of lingering euphoria. Perhaps _that_ was why you were so calm only seconds ago.

But, now that you know who you are, you are pleased to conclude that you are _not at all_ content with the situation at hand; drifting through the different rifts and passages of your mind and discovering things about yourself that you would never have guessed. In all honesty, what _you_ want to know is:

Where are you?

* * *

Darkness. He was floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That was all that Gary could see; that was all he could _feel_ before he came to. Although, he might not have wanted to 'come to' after finding out about the insanity he would be faced with once he did.

* * *

Flash flash, flickering on and off the millions of light bulbs together, in unison. They can't decide whether to stay fully lit or to black out slightly, maybe even fully. Well, we suppose it isn't the bulbs themselves, but the one in charge of light design whose mind wanders so.

It seems they decide on staying fully lit after all.

And, the light engulfs the room in complete hysteria. As soon as the prize becomes visible, cheers, chants, screams, and shouts ricochet off the walls, coming from the vast crowd, the sea of people. Tonight's viewing would be spectacular. Fans came from all the corners of the world just for this one event.

And it would be oh so worth it.

But, to one single person, the same could not be said. He isn't completely awake yet, but anything would have been better than being in his shoes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the soft music begins to spew forth from the surrounding speaker system. It spreads in volume around the entire room like a fine mist. As it spreads, it rises in pitch, finally able to be heard just a bit above the noise of the crowd.

A pause: Then a heavy rhythmic beat begins.

Thump, thump, thump.

Louder the stereo spills out music. Millions of notes dance through the air, the tune dark, irregular...mad. And the people, the sea of people shout their mouths off to the mysterious melody, louder than they were before. Their bodies move and they dance wildly to the beat in the cramped space.

Head back, hands high, waist swaying from side to side while feet try to shuffle back and forth. Sometimes a knee bent, sometimes hair flipped, and sometimes, people get lost in it all. The music swallows you whole.

This is madness. A wonderful madness.

It gives you a sense of feeling high, on top of the world, euphoria slithering through the gaps of your fingers. And the music spins its way through people, a game of cat's cradle. It is brilliant, dangerously brilliant how the bodies swarm like worker bees trying to pollinate flowers.

Madness.

"Hello fans from across the globe! It's time to start the show!" the announcer exclaims, her sensual voice amplified by the microphone in her hands.

The music dies down a bit, still faintly detectable by ear, as on the stage the young lady appears to the crowd. After a nice round of applause; it all begins.

Meanwhile, _he_ is somewhere dark.

Faintly he stirs; the drug begins to finally wear off. Still, he hasn't gained enough leverage in the real world in order to snap out of the daze. He struggles with his own memories while in his subconscious, trying to piece back together a puzzle of immense confusion.

Darkness.

He's floating in it, in that immeasurable abyss, that black hole. That is all that Gary _sees_; that is all that Gary _feels. _

And, his head lolls from side to side every now and then. He fights to wake up, to break free of his 'drunken stupor,' but to no avail.

The young woman on stage begins to speak again; more lightning bolts of enthusiasm slice through the sky as she says, "And now, it's time to unveil one of the most awaited entries in tonight's show!"

Her voice is drowned out by the feedback from the crowd.

Gary's 5 senses start to come back as a faint rumbling noise shakes through his brain. He knows he's being taken somewhere. What he doesn't know, is that he's strapped to a flat wooden board, a flat wooden board that is being wheeled away to Celebi knows where.

With no hope of escape.

The wheels cause the rumbling as they create friction with the bumpy floor. The vibrations travel up and down every limb of his body.

Then it stops, it just stops.

And, he's blinded by light.

On all sides of his body, he feels the heat from the hundreds of light bulbs push into his skin, seep into his bones. Sweat pours down the side of his face, dripping, dripping, dripping: splash. The only thing that comes to mind is the need for sunscreen, as all this UV light can't be good for the body.

"Here we are, all," the lady with her microphone says, "Time to unveil the merchandise! Ready? 1, 2, 3!"

With a quick, mind throbbing spin, Gary is forced into waking up. All he can see is the light. He can't make out any faces, but knows that there is someone there.. a whole _lot_ of someones. His brain now fully awake, eyes still adjusting to the harsh conditions, Gary tries to break free of the wooden board he notices that he is strapped to.

He tries, but fails. Instead, he hurts himself in the process: splinters dig into the side of his arm.

"We'll start the bidding at 1000 Poké. Let the game begin!" the announcer yells into the microphone while executing a balanced spin: the audience goes wild.

"I'll bid 1000!" an old lady yells while holding up her cue card.

What is going on?

A young male shouts out, "I'll triple that: 3000!"

And on the prices go; higher, higher, still higher while Gary is trying to figure out what is happening.

"25000 Poké over here!" a young woman shouts out, quickly overcome by an elder male who screams, "50000 Poké."

Tik tok tik tok, the clock keeps ticking every second that passes by. Gary, still puzzled, takes in the information he has. One, he was knocked out by some mystery being. Two, he was drugged and taken to this Mew forsaken' place. Three, he's strapped tightly to a wooden board that he can't break free from, and four: people seem to be bidding for something.

Well, whatever it is, he thinks, it must be well worth the price by the fact that the numbers are only getting higher. Oh, that, and his arm hurts.

"130000 Poké and my life's savings are gone." An old man yells out while looking to his wife.

Then silence.

The pressure rings through the room like an old brass gong signaling for dinner time. Whispers brake out in the crowd with talks of no more money left, of saving for college tuition, of having nothing to feed the kids with and even having to foreclose their homes.

Gary, there, but not there, just chuckles. The people seem so fickle in his mind. Something is wrong, something is very wrong with this situation.. this picture.

"Come now," the young lady starts in a patronizing voice, "surely the merchandise is to your liking. If it wasn't, then it wouldn't be here, up on this stage."

Gary tunes her out while she goes into a small tirade on the value of whatever it was that the people were bidding their Poké on. Yet, he too snapped to attention when she came to the last line:

"And it is known fact," she takes a mysterious pause for affect, "that Gary Oak.. _doesn't_ come cheap."

Gary Oak?

_What_ is going on here, why was my name mentioned, Gary thinks to himself.

What are these people _really_ bidding on?

Straining his ears to listen, he catches the next bid, "I'll bid 300000 Poké for him, but no higher!" a young female says with hearts in her eyes.

Hearts in her eyes?

_Him?_

So, they aren't bidding on an object…

Gary takes a big gulp before coming to the next conclusion:

They are bidding on him.

And with that, fear rushes through his blood, adrenaline pumping like mad. Faster, stronger, he needed to get out of here!

Gary struggles once more to break the bonds that hold him to the board, going a bit spastic when doing so. Again, he fails, instead choosing to just lay limp. The bidding goes on while Gary tries to think of a way out of this situation.

His Pokémon!

Gary looks down to his belt where his Pokéballs should have been. Yes, should have, as in.. not there now. He panics mentally, but for his sake, for the sake of his Pokémon, he calms down. There has to be another way out!

But, he backtracks in his thoughts: why is he even here in the first place? Why did that shadow bring him here? What did he do to deserve the misfortune of being sold off to the highest bidder?

"500000 Poké right here!" a young teenage girl screams above the rest of the voices. That was the highest that anyone had ever gone for the merchandise being sold. It was a bid for the record books.

It looked like no one would want to go higher, and that didn't bode too well with Gary. Less bidding equals less time for planning an escape.

Faintly his ears pick up the sound of a familiar cheer. Something along the lines of 'Gary, Gary, he's our man. If we can't own him, no one can!" The cheer, coupled with the unmistaken sound of sobbing, told Gary that even his own cheerleaders couldn't buy him back.

The situation was becoming increasingly worse.

"Going once," the lady speaks into her microphone, "Going twice?" she says with a hint of questioning, "Going three times!" she exclaims with a jovial voice.

"Sold for 500000 Poké!" she announces, executing another spin, "Please make your way to the stage to present the cash or check. Would the seller also make their way to the stage!"

I'm doomed, Gary thought. This is bad, very _very_ bad.

Wait a minute.. did she say.. the seller?

Snapping his head up, quick enough to cause whiplash, Gary squints in order to see just who it was that was selling him away (to an obsessive fan-girl no better). He blurrily makes out the silhouette of a medium body size with something, maybe a Pokémon following the shadow's heels.

When the person's face came into focus, all Gary could do was scrunch up his face in confusion.

"Umm.. who exactly are you?" He spits out while searching through mental files for the person's face.

While Gary did that, the person ignored Gary, instead walking over to accept the 500000 Poké, in _cash_. The throng of people below claps and whistles loudly while the exchange is made.

Money in hand, the mysterious person walks over to Gary to say his goodbyes.

"Well, Hello Gary Oak. Pleased to meet you. My name is Drew, Drew Hayden," Drew starts, a small smirk on his face growing bigger with every word, "Yes, it's me, the coordinator with millions of fans of both genders. As for why I'm selling you..well," here Drew's smirk turns into a menacing smile, "Apparently you have almost as many fans as I do. Keyword: apparently. And, as we all know, that can't happen. That will never happen. Anyway, enjoy your new life as I will enjoy this money."

With that, Drew turns on his heel, lazily letting his hand fly through the air in a mock salute/wave and leaving the stage, and Gary to fend for himself with his new 'owner'.

Even more confused, Gary calls out to Drew, "Hey wait a minute! You can't be serious. You auctioned me because I have more fans than you? That makes no sense!" but, he gets no response from Drew, instead Roselia turns around slightly to wave her blue rose in goodbye.

All hope lost, Gary turns to the young teen who bought him. She was actually okay looking, for a fan-girl that is. Decked out in an 'I Heart Gary Oak' tee shirt, dark colored jeans, and sneakers, the extreme amount of makeup on her face making her face look less hideous than it really was.

"Gary!" she squeals happily, taking him into a bone crushing hug after untying him from the board, "Let's go, I have our house in the mountains all ready for your arrival."

The love-struck fan pulls Gary along in a double vice grip. Thinking fast, he asks about his Pokémon: maybe if she has them, he could get out of here.

"Umm, excuse me..," he starts, the sounds rolling off his tongue in disgust, "Where are my Pokémon?"

She stops, turns around, and replies, "Your Pokémon? Silly Gary, Drew took them so he could use them in his contests. Oh and so that you won't be able to escape so easily." And with a smiling snarl, she drags him down another hallway in the backstage area.

Outside of the building, a cab awaits. Gary, struggling to escape, gets thrown into the yellow monster, still held in the girl's grip. Carefully she snaps a collar into place around his neck, leash and all, as the cabbie starts the engine of the car and pulls away.

Meanwhile, terrors run through Gary's mind. He's screwed up this time; big time. And, if he doesn't do something about it, he'll be stuck like this…

Forever.

* * *

Okay well.. that was... strange.

Bye guys!

-Torrie


End file.
